Ghosts Of Darkness
by Archangel2011
Summary: "Sometimes, being afraid changes us. For better or worse, we never know." Ghosts have a habit of surrounding me, warning those who cannot see the darkness to stay away. You obviously didn't listen. And for that I thank you for showing me; that even I can have happiness. The Girl-Next-Door, that's all Samantha Starr was. Now being happy turned in something else. It's called love.
1. Prologue

Summary:

"Sometimes, being afraid changes us. For better or worse, we never know." Ghosts have a habit of surrounding me, warning those who cannot see the darkness to stay away. You obviously didn't listen. And for that I thank you for showing me; that even I can have happiness. The Girl-Next-Door, that's all Samantha Starr was. A couple of months had passed before being happy turned into something else. Love.

Prologue

When I was young, I always thought that mum and dad would live forever and we'd be one happy family. I was wrong. The year I entered high school was the same year I started feeling tired all the time. It was a tired beyond tired, the kind of exhaustion that makes your entire body ache. I assumed it was the standard summer-to-fall adjustment process: I'd started high school; I was waking up early after a summer of sleeping in; I was staying up late to finish my homework. Words thrown at me regarding my body, I didn't pay any heed.

But as the months wore on and my body adjusted to the changes, the exhaustion seemed to linger elsewhere—in my heart, in my head. I just felt off, as if someone had come along and dimmed the lights a bit. I started to drag, to sense something dark floating around the tiny file cabinets that I'd always imagined lined the inside of my brain. But whenever anyone else seemed to notice the dark thing—a parent, a friend, whoever—I'd always give them the same explanation: "I'm fine. I'm just really tired." Deep down I knew it was more than that, but part of me believed that if I covered it up well enough, it would eventually go away.

It didn't.

It is a relentless ghost; no matter how many times I try to be rid of it, it finds a way to make a comeback. I never asked for help. I hid my rituals from everyone, I'd spend hours at night reciting special sayings over and over until I got them right, for fear that if I didn't, terrible things would happen. After about a year of tapping my foot and biting my lip and writing and rewriting my homework 10 times, I finally realized that terrible things happen anyway; my dog died, my perfect grades slipped, my parents died, and I was miserable all the time. I forced myself to stop counting. I thought I finally had my brain under control.

But the ghost, as ever, returned. It is a constant presence in my life. Sometimes it shows up as anxiety, and sometimes it shows up as depression. It consumes me. In high school, it showed up as both. It was brutal and relentless and never lifted and I swore I could fix it by myself, which I couldn't. I was sent to my Uncle Aaron in Beacon Hills, the only family that still kept contact with my parents (that I know of).

I barely remember Uncle Aaron or mum and dad now, their faces seem to be blurry and dark in my mind; it's almost that I am cruel to forget them. My family. Photos seem to remind me how much of a stranger I have become. I started skipping school, unable to battle the never-ending thoughts. What would have happened if I didn't get better? What if I start to just not care? What if I stop caring about whether I live or _die? _They never stopped, they haunted my sleep, my thoughts, my dreams. It never seemed to stop.

_A silver car's front end crumpled with the force of impact thrusting two-foot of metal back into another car. The windshield exploded, showering with silvers of glass. Both of the driving wheel and the dashboard compacted into one humongous mess. The rear passenger side door was savagely torn apart from its hinges. The car shuddered to a stop once then fell slowly onto its side. _

_The driver and passenger: a man and a woman were killed instantly upon impact. The salty metallic smell lingered in the air, the screams from the back seat of the silver car. The screams were high and feminine, possibly a young female. The young teenaged girl shrieked in fright as something wet dripped down her face and her legs couldn't move, pinned down by her father's seat. _

_She was no more than fourteenyears old with flaming red hair and silvery grey eyes. Olive, soft delicate looking skin wearing a now blood drenched yellow sun dress._

_The girl whimpers, quite dazed from the crash. "Mummy? Daddy?"_

_Suddenly, the girl stopped whimpering but she panted, eyes closed. A gentle wind drifting along the highway became sharp and the silvers of glass flew into the girl's face but she doesn't move or even shriek as a silver streaked across her left cheek, fresh red blood soaking down her already blood-stained face._

_Then darkness._

It stayed the same, the relentless haunting of their deaths; it was like time had repeated. They _haunted_ me. Now three years had passed until I was able to be released from my white, sterile, cold cage. No bars but a never-ending nothing of white; it was _sickening._

I wasn't sick, I wasn't traumatised.

I was just alone.

Alone in a big dark, frightening world.


	2. The Storm

"_Me leaving you alone would be like your kind not lurking in the dark, it's impossible." ~ Samantha_

Chapter 1: The Storm

_The pine-wood trees rustled their lime leaves within the light autumn breeze, ringlets of red hair flying in the midsummer's wind. The trees uprooted, a small feminine giggle was carried out throughout the forest. Flashes of the sunlight's ray peeked through the trees tops, the sounds of the forest animals scurrying around the forest's floor; scavenging for food to prepare themselves for the long, icy winter._

"_Samaan…thaaaa." The feminine voiced echoed through the trees, the sounds of the animals suddenly silenced. The sky no longer held the gentle rays of sunlight, dark grey clouds consumed above and the thunder claps heard in the distance. Wisps of fire. A storm was coming._

"_Samantha run!" The voice yelled. The flames slowly licked up the trunk of the trees, bright oranges and yellows assaulting the air in crisp colours of ash. A sound of metal clashing with metal thundered throughout the forest._

_Then the voice whispered._

"_Samantha."_

The black, hollowed out bags below my eyes had worsened ever since I came to this town. This weird, grotesque feeling, is consumed in _darkness_. I don't know why but it feels familiar. Like I should know what this is. But the constant veil of senselessness covering my eyes blinds me from actual reality. In reality; I am a ghost, invisible.

High School has not really changed for me, except that my classroom isn't a sterile, white room with a stoic, emotionless nurse. At Quake, they called me "Soulless" for a reason. Because no normal human being would say that pain is a necessity in life. Or mention that their new school had the darkness moving towards its direction. Or that it felt the strongest from where I stood, in front of my English class door. That's when I realised.

I was being _watched_.

I felt the eyes slither over my form, observing curiously. I turned my head towards the innocent cover of honey brown eyes and tilted my head interestedly. Then I turned away and ignored him. I didn't want friends here or anywhere, they pretend to befriend you and you open your heart and feelings and then when you're no longer hold their interest anymore, they walk all over you in disgust. Why was my schedule so simple to understand, but those who use it every day are always so difficult? Sitting down in the middle row next to the twenty foot wall of windows, I grabbed my book and pen and waited for the other kids to grace ourselves with their presence. Gradually everyone was seated but the teacher was nowhere in sight. Where was she?

Then suddenly, everyone's phone went off. Ringtones and vibrating phones echoed through the room where they read out the text. "The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed sombre under an overcast sky – seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness."

I observed the teacher walking in, considering her age. She was quite beautiful with her brown hair and eyes, but she seemed _cold_. A surge of darkness lingered to my left and snapped my head towards the bottom window. On its brick perch, a black raven mounted. Zoning out from the period, I watched the raven fly off the perch; it's black form soaring away when the raven doubled back and smacked into a middle window panel, dead. Shrieks and yelps of surprise resonated throughout the room.

At that moment, a sky-high black horde of crows barrelled towards our classroom. Hiding underneath the school desk, I pulled my limbs up to my torso. Silvers of glass sprayed, the cawing and screams erupted throughout the room. Razor sharp claws dug in, tearing and piercing my skin and clothes. "Get down! Everybody get down!" The teacher ordered, shielding a pupil from the oncoming storm of ravenous claws.

After about five minutes of deafening screams, the classroom was tainted with black feathers. Eventually, everyone got up from their hidden safe havens, dazed and confused. _Irregular heartbeat. _My new black jeans were ripped in several places, conveniently sporting three distinct claw marks running down my right calf. _Rampant thoughts. _Luckily, the black bat-winged shirt I was wearing in some way surivived. _Voices. _It started with the buzz of what just occurred and wormed its way in.

"Le tempete est a venir. Excuter Samantha!" The voiced screeched, repeating over and over again. My nails embedded themselves into my ears, trying to muffle the voice and girlish screams I could hear. But _I was the one screaming._ My knees buckled, lips quivering and my body convulsing violently. I lost all sense of time, when I could scream no more and calmed down. Uncle Aaron had arrived in his police uniform with Sheriff Stilinski trailing behind. A look of determination crowned his face.

_Shit._

Xxxx

"I'm fine Aaron."

Uncle Aaron stood in all his authority figure glory with utter disbelief shown on his face. His Florida tanned jaw twitched in irritation. I hope Aaron didn't find out what happened. "Sam, screaming out and holding your head isn't fine." Oh, he did know.

I shrugged indifferently, my red locks of hair bouncing off my bat-winged shirt. "You should have known better than to get an insane, sociopathic, anti-social teenager from Quake." Aaron rolled his eyes, then someone else decided to cut in our conversation. The honey brown eyes from before and Sheriff Stilinski.

"Quake? Quake Asylum?" The sheriff asked, glaring at Aaron stiffly. "Why didn't you tell me she's from Quake?"

He scowled. "So people wouldn't look at her like they do now." Uncle Aaron glanced around the room before his azure green eyes landed on me. I blinked.

"They would have found out sooner or later." I said in a monotone voice.

Aaron snapped.

"It took me three years to get you out! They isolated you from me! They basically caged you!"

My molten silver eyes stared into the distance, I started to speak softly. "They knew I couldn't be fixed. It was the only way they knew a dead body wouldn't be found behind the door."

Sheriff Stilinski sighed. Ruffling his aging brown hair, the Sheriff asked, "What happened here exactly?"

The honey brown eyed boy chose this moment to speak, albeit sarcastically.

"Well you see, crows smashing through the windows-"

"Stiles." The Sheriff warned.

"-and then when the crows all died, she started screaming out until our ears bled and voila!"

"Stiles!" The Sheriff yelled.

"Sorry Dad." Stiles smiled sheepishly at me.

Uncle Aaron frowned. "Why did you scream?"

My eyes innocently looked at my fiddling hands. I sucked in a deep breath before answering, "It wanted to tell me something, it didn't know the meaning of quiet speaking."

Stiles brow furrowed in confusion. "It?" He said, testing the world out and continued. "What did _it _tell you?"

My eyes wandered up to Stiles's gaze.

"It told me to run, that a storm is coming."

Then I walked out.

**A/N:**

**I will warn you now, this will not be your average teen wolf fanfic. Enjoy the peace and quiet...while you can.**


	3. Ambushed

**A/N:**

**I want to thank . for making me SUCH A BEAUTIFUL BANNER! OMG! I have NEVER gotten a banner done for me before! Thank you so much!**

**Check it out on my profile! And a big SHOUT-OUT to those who reviewed, favourite and followed! I hope you guys the best!**

"_Why be sad of death? Don't pity the dead, pity the living." ~ Samantha_

Chapter 2: Ambushed

"It's nothing," Derek points out. The matching bruises on Allison and Lydia are mirror-imaged to each other. Derek glared, he had other things to do than waste time on two teenage girls. Lydia chose that time to mention something about Pareidolia, a mental condition that causes people to see patterns that aren't there. Scott huffed in annoyance.

"They're only trying to help," Scott said, his brown eyes softening.

Derek recoils at this, then points his finger to Lydia. "This one who used me to resurrect my psychotic uncle. Thank you," and then he points to Allison, "and this one who shot about thirty arrows into me and my pack."

Stiles at this moment, argues that. "There may have been mangling and maiming, but there was no death connected with Lydia and Allison."

Allison deadpanned. "My mother died."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Your mother's death was due to your Argent family honour code, not me."

Allison crosses her arms. "I'm here to help Scott, not you." Her chocolate brown eyes narrowed.

"Well..." Derek started, sarcastically, "when you find something _real_, let me know." He scratched the back of his jet black hair, brows furrowing.

Stiles decided now to speak up, sneakily changing the subject. "What about Samantha?" Scott; who was too busy glaring at Derek, stupidly asked. "Who?"

Stiles sighed, face palming himself. "The new girl who had that freaky episode while you played werewolf house!"

Derek's emerald eyes snapped to Stiles in interest, suspicion and a bit of…_hesitation_. "What _type _of freaky episode?""

Stiles started, like it was a story you would mention around a campfire with smores. "Well, she started screaming after those stupid crows attacked our classroom. And then she-"

Lydia cut in, "Guys."

But Stiles still continued, "-said something about a storm coming with her cold silver eyes which looked seriously spine-chilling by the way."

Lydia flicked her strawberry blond fringe to the side, in complete frustration. "Guys, look behind you."

Suddenly, time stopped. Eyes widened in surprise to turn around to understand that the door was _open. _The newest girl of Beacon Hills, Samantha Starr was standing in the door way, holding her textbook with an evil smirk gracing her face. Her silver eyes had a special glint and her dark red-brunette hair was brushed into a messy bun. She turned away from the offending eyes and walked out of sight of the door way.

Scott, Stiles and Derek said in unison. "She knows something." Chills ran down Derek's spine, the girl was _hauntingly familiar_. "When's the next free period?" Derek blurted out.

Scott started to answer. "Last p-" Then Stiles cut him off.

"Last period of the day. Why?"

"We need to know what she knows. We need to find her, see if she can cooperate with us before the Alpha Pack find out about _her_," Derek finalized. They were running out of time to find Boyd and Erica. Because to be honest, they needed all the help they can get.

Xxxx

During the free period, the trio find Samantha sitting on the school bleachers. She was muttering incoherent words to herself not even werewolf hearing could pick up. Her eyes down casted to her combat boots, a well-worn leather bound book in her lap. Hands idly by her sides.

Scott demands, "Who are you?"

She responded, lifting her head to the trio quite indifferent. "Samantha Starr. Seventeen year old aloof girl that border lines on insanity."

Derek's jaw twitched, brow arching. "Don't play games. What are you doing here?"

Fists clenched, she countered. "What are _you _doing in a High School?"

Green met silver, glares thrown and jaws tense. "Don't reflect this on me. What are you doing here? And don't lie either. We know it when you lie," Derek snapped.

Sam blinked and started giggling. "Really? Do you honestly think you're safe to divulge you secret? But this town is so oblivious I'm not surprised that I aroused suspicion from being observant. After all, the town practically _reeks _of supernatural phenomenon's."

Sam started stepping down the bleacher seats, the book _"Heart of Darkness" by Joseph Conrad _in her hand. Her Domo backpack conveniently laid peacefully on the bottom seat. Like she had anticipated their arrival. When Samantha reached the bottom bleacher seat, she jumped off and landed on the ground. "Now, why are you here talking to _me?" _She counters again in her emotionless voice.

Scott looks down to his feet, realising that _she has no friends. No one to talk to. No one she's close to. That she's all alone here. _He gulped, his brown eyes widened. He gazed into Sam's molten silver eyes, noticing that they're always _glazed over and cold. _"We need your help, Sam," Scott answered, sympathy shining in his brown eyes.

"What? I can't...Not yet anyway..." Sam stutters. A flash of surprise flickered in those silver eyes, but then it was gone as soon as it appeared.

Derek, however pressed on. "Why not?"

"Things are not as they seem," Sam answered back. Then Sam started walking towards the school. The winds suddenly picked up, the rustling of the trees resonated in the distance. Her red curls of hair flew with the direction of the wind. A sweet aroma of lilies, jasmine and lavender filled the wolves' noses. It was _calming. _

"Help us!" Stiles hollered.

The red head stopped mid-step. She turns around and says, "The location of your friends lay within Lydia and Allison, but be cautious. You need more information before acting, for every risk, there's a reward or a consequence."

"What are you?" Derek asked in confusion. She spoke in riddles, wise beyond her years. To think she's only seventeen, been depending on herself for years to get things done. Alone.

Sam asked playfully, "Why? Are you scared?"

Derek's brow furrowed in anger. The audacity of this girl, this whatever-she-is human girl to call him scared. Werewolves don't get scared. "No," Derek deflected. Sam crossed her arms, her red curls cascading down her shoulders.

"Well you should be."


	4. Bullet Holes

"_Stupidity only achieves one thing- getting someone killed." ~ Samantha _

Chapter 3- Bullet Holes

_Screams. _

_Pain._

_Darkness._

"_We're having fun, aren't we love?" A sinister, masculine voice sneered behind a glass observation window. I was chained; the electric shocks convulsed my body. My eyes closed shut in agony._

"_ . . . . PLEASE! STOP!" I screamed. I could feel myself getting weaker, muscles contracting and breathing shallowing now._

"_Samantha," that oh-so familiar voice whispered in her ear. I opened my eyes, her red hair flecked with grey, aging with years. "Shhhhhhhhhhh. It's okay Sam. Mummy is here." My mother, Alana Starr had appeared before me. Wet, hot tears streamed down my face. This is a dream. She's dead. She can't…be…here._

"_Wake up. You need not continue. You need to help them now. Awake. Wake up Sam!" Mum whispered._

"_Who? WHO?" I cried. Why do I have do everything? I'll just be used again, like a thousand times before. They always want help and I was too weak to say different. I was riddled with compassion, kindness, light and love. I was too attuned with my emotions. Emotions are a weakness, a weakness that needed to be eradicated. Only then could I be strong, even if I'm cold, loathed and full of darkness._

"_My Samantha, my beautiful strong daughter. It's okay, let go. You're safe. You can let go Sam, you can let go. Let the walls down, let them crumble so you can shine through," she soothed._

"_No!" I shouted._

_Never again. _

_Will I be weak._

_xxxx_

Sunlight.

Its warm rays comforted me, a thin layer of sweat covered my body, pyjamas soaked. I let my eyes linger on my ceiling that was covered in galaxy universe wallpaper and then observed my room, thinking. My other four walls were a navy blue colour. A red-oak corner desk sitting in the left corner with my school books laying idly in a stack. My four-posted Queens-sized bed in the further right corner from the door. My dresser/cupboard next to the corner desk. The wall in parallel with the door, you could barely see the navy blue colour from my posters and photos. Photos of my travels with my parents… before the accident littered the wall. My posters were of Old Celtic Mythological creatures and symbols.

My eyes were drawn to one particular photo in particular.

It was me when I was twelve with two brothers the same age playing with me in the playground. I was living in Phoenix with my parents for a 10-month business arrangement my dad was dealing with. I befriended them in school, realising that they were shunned from their family. They use to sneak out in the middle of the night to my house, where I nursed their wounds, fed them. I gave them my friendship.

When dad had finished his deal, we had to move to New York for dad's agency. I asked them, begged them to come with me. They refused. I didn't really understand why they didn't but I guess they didn't want me to be hurt by their family. The three leather plaited bracelets I always wore was shared between the three of us.

Then I never saw them again.

I stepped into the shower, hot scalding water pouring onto my body. I washed myself, got dressed into my usual attire. Black jeans and black t-shirt with combat boots, I shoved my books I needed today into my Domo bag and walked into the kitchen.

Grabbing a green apple, I took my lunch out of the fridge, dodging once again Uncle Aaron's shelf of leftover pizza. "Sam," Uncle Aaron called from the living room.

"What?" I asked, it was only 6:50. He shouldn't even be awake yet until like 10.

"Have a nice day at school! Don't let the bed bugs bite…" He trailed off. I sighed, Uncle Aaron was still half asleep. Figures. Then I started walking.

To. School.

I took a shortcut through the forest, but stuck to the path. No Red Riding Hood here. When I reached the front entrance, I saw them.

Two Alpha twin brothers.

This shall be interesting, almost _exciting. _However I was rudely interrupted by a honey-brown eyed boy called Stiles. "Hey! How are you?" Stiles asked, although too enthusiastically.

"What do you want Stiles?" I said.

"Psssh, who says I want anything? Geez you're like She-Derek or something..." He trailed off.

I arched a brow. "You _always _want something Stiles. Even I know that and I've only just met you."

"See, exactly like Derek. With your menacing looking eyes and incredibly sexy figure. I mean, do you even realise how..." I cut Stiles off, placing my hand over his mouth.

I glared at Stiles, the familiar dark look in my eyes. "If you don't shut up, I'll rip off a rather _private _part of your body and find out how long it'll take to turn into mush by a blender." Stiles nodded furiously, fear pouring off his entire being. I have no time to waste with an absolute idiot, why can't they just leave me alone?

"The warning of that material. You gave us that much, how the hell do you know everything that's happening in Beacon Hills? Did you know that Erica was dead?" Stiles interrupted. I softened at them knowing that Erica is dead, even though I knew she was already dead. They needed to find out by themselves, I couldn't interfere with that.

"Stiles, I have already said this to Scott and Derek. Things are not as they seem. The…" I stopped, my eyes widened. I turned to my right to spot the green eyes from yesterday, _staring _at me.

No.

It's not gonna happen.

I turned back to Stiles, tensing up. "I'm not helping you with your problems. So stop pretending to care, I'm not someone you want to be friends with _Stiles_. I'll just get you and everyone you love killed." Then I stormed off into the school's halls. I reached my locker, finally out of the rampage of adolescents. The bell rang and the halls started emptying. I was grabbing my books out of my locker when I dropped them. Scowling, I crouched down to pick up my books, when the twins came around the corner.

"Well Sammy, I wasn't expecting you here at all. But I must say, damn girl. You look beautiful," one of the twins commented. I stood up, smirking.

"Well if it isn't the Addy and Thane from the Alpha Wolfie bunch. Come to beg for mercy?" I taunted.

It had been five years since I last saw those two boys from Phoenix, but I never mentioned to anyone that they weren't human.

They were werewolves. Five years ago, I called them my brothers. Their names...

Aiden and Ethan.

**A/N: The updates may take a little time due to my tablet being taken away but fear not! I have not forgotten my fellow fans!**


	5. Warning Tides

"_You were once considered my brothers. Once. A very long time ago. I've changed now, just as you have. But there is a difference, I'm stronger now. Stronger than you'd care to admit." ~ Samantha_

Chapter 4-Warning Tides

"Let's start this again. Are you threatening me?" Sam asked coyly. Aiden was pushed up against a locker, a few feet in the air with Sam's hands around his neck. Effectively cutting off his air supply. Ethan was on the opposite side of the room, knocked unconscious.

"Sam, let…go…please…" Aiden gasped out.

Her grip tightened, eyes hardened. "Why should I? You honestly think you could use me for your little power game? You're pathetic. If you dare threaten me again, I will not hesitate to _kill _you and your entire pack. So kindly fuck off," Sam said, a creepy sweet edge in her voice. She then releases Aiden from her iron clad grip.

Aiden slumps against the locker, breathing heavily. His eyes look up to meet Sam's, wondering what could have happened in those five years? The Sam that stood before him wasn't compassionate, kind, caring and polite but cold, sadistic and dark. So dark. Her innocent personality that once graced her five years ago… was _gone. _She had become a complete _stranger._

Aiden didn't know what she was capable of.

And that scared him.

Sam started walking down to her class before stopping. Turning to Aiden, she smirks before saying, "Your move."

Xxxx

"Scott, if you don't stop staring at me. I won't hesitate to smash your head against the bench so many times that no surgery will save you from the brain damage I'll inflict," Sam taunted. It was her least favourite period; lunch. She isolated herself from the crowded tables and sat at an abandoned one to eat in silence, that was until Scott, Stiles, Isaac, Allison and Lydia all sat with her.

"Soooo…" Lydia drawled before continuing. "Why are we sitting with out of all people, _her?" _

Sam glared at Lydia, her silver eyes darkening with annoyance. "I didn't ask for a screaming bitch, a hunter, an annoying human and two Beta werewolves to sit with me. And I didn't ask for your constant bitching either."

Lydia scowled as Stiles chuckled.

"So She-Derek, anything you'd like to tell us? Anything at all? Anything-"Stiles started but Sam cut him off.

"I told you, I'm _not _getting involved. I'm not helping anyone, I'm not telling you what I am because frankly; I don't trust you," Sam stated.

Scott tensed, but couldn't help but ask. "Why did you tell us about revaluating our plan?"

Sam leant back, her head turned to the right. As if she heard something. She turned back to Scott, her eyes widening. She shot up from the table, hands smacking down on the bench. She leant close to Scott's face, centimetres from his face.

"Because I like setting up the game, it's going to be exciting and I can just _feel _that it's gonna be fun. For me at least." Sam drew back, crossing her arms.

Isaac growled. He grabbed Sam's arm roughly, eyes flashing from their usual blue to yellow. "Erica's dead! And this is a game to you! What is wrong with you?" he demanded.

Sam yanked her arm out of his grasp. "They shall rise. Rise to the break the veil and act out their unfinished retribution," Sam answered back. Her head snapped to the right again before walking in that direction.

"Well, she's lovely," Allison said, the first words she spoke since sitting at the table. Stiles groaned and Scott's eyes were still on her retreating figure. Lydia was texting on her phone and Isaac was trying to keep his wolf under control.

"Why won't she let anyone in? She's all alone and doesn't trust anyone…" Scott asked, trailing off into thought.

Stiles huffed. "She's like Derek, when we first met him. Hey! Why don't we get Derek to talk to her? They are so much alike," Stiles said excitedly.

Scott's brow narrowed, Derek was alone and cold when they first had dealings with him. Could it be that simple? Something tells Scott that it'll take a lot more than that to get Sam to open up.

"I don't know Stiles. Her uncle is always working and didn't you mention she spent three years in Quake Asylum? The most effective security held institute in the United States, she had to be really messed up to be from there. Would she even want to talk to Derek?" Scott remarked. What could have possibly happened to her? The Starr Family were basically the golden family, promising careers and ambition. The elder members of the family died years before he was even born. Then three years ago, Jeremiah Starr and his pregnant wife Alana Starr died in a car crash leaving Samantha and Aaron the last of the Starr line.

They were all normal.

Then why is Sam so different?

Or better yet; what the hell is she?

Suddenly, an absolute terrifying ear-piercing scream could be heard throughout the cafeteria. Scott, Stiles and Isaac snapped their heads to the right; where only moments ago Sam had been walking in that particular direction. They all came to the same conclusion.

That wasn't just anyone.

_That was Sam._

The young two Betas shot out of their chairs, running in that direction with Stiles, Allison and Lydia tailing close behind. They came around the corner to see what they were very familiar with.

Blood.

It covered the lockers, smudged bloody handprints covered the left hand side lockers into the girl's bathroom. Locker door indented and different items sprawled on the floor, the lights above shattered.

Allison ran into the bathroom, freezing at the sight before her.

Sam was pushed against the wall, busted lip, bruises and claw marks covered her face. Two of the bathroom sinks and mirrors were destroyed, silvers of glass littered the floor along with blood.

But Sam wasn't alone.

A transparent figure could be seen holding Sam up. The only thing Allison could distinguish was the long, blond waves of hair, the figure turned around before disappearing. Sam leant back on the wall, breathing shallowly but Allison was still frozen. That figure was so familiar, Allison could've sworn she saw…

Erica.


End file.
